“So,” I said, “let me guess. Primus killed your pet.”
Last blinked, bringing the city back into focus. “Primus? No. I saw Primus liked Only’s music. So I took tweezers and pulled off Only’s forewings. Then I pulled off his legs. After that, I broke him in half. I never had nightmares again.”
Yet me, I’d be having some tonight.
“That’s a nice story, Last.”
“You’re my friend, Mari. Mine. I think the reason we aligned with Hell Gate is because Fate wants us to be together. You and me.” She clutched my arm, smiling at me with cool, guileless eyes.
Luvic turned toward us as we stepped into the shadow of the white-brick monstrosity. He lifted an eyebrow at Last’s fingers curling around my forearm.
“Should I be jealous?” he asked, tilting his head.
I frowned—what did that mean?—but Last stiffened and hissed like a cat.
He gave her his wide Bard smile and pulled off his sunglasses. He hit her with a smoldering, male-model look. Even with the black eye and the swollen nose, he radiated beauty. Maybe even more so, as the black eye only highlighted the perfection of everything else.
Why hadn’t he covered the swelling with illusion?
“When we’re married,” Last said, “you’ll learn your place, Bard.”
Whoa.
Whoa whoa whoa. What?
The world screeched to a halt with a jerking record-scratch noise. I shook my head, then I realized the noise was the screeching of tires as a taxi down the block slammed on its brakes.
Luvic’s mouth kicked up into a delighted smile. “Mmm. Looking forward to it.”
No, he wasn’t.
No, he was not.
What the heck was going on?
“Let’s go,” Justice said, yanking the building’s glass door open. A wall of cold air rushed out and slammed into me, turning the sweat on my skin to ice.
Justice held the door. Luvic swept his arm out like an old-fashioned courtier. “Ladies first.”
We squeezed into the vestibule. It smelled like old cheese and overripe bananas. The wallpaper was from the seventies, with avocado green, harvest yellow, and salmon pink splashed in hallucinogenic-inspired abstract patterns.
I stepped forward and typed a sequence of numbers into the bronze keypad. The intercom crackled, and then a tinny, distorted voice said, “What?”
“Knock, knock.”
“Who is it?”
I paused. “Boo.”
“Boo who?”
“Aww, don’t cry, it’ll be all right.”
Both Luvic and Last watched me as if I’d sprouted two heads. Justice kept his arms folded over his chest, his expression flat.
“Nope,” the voice over the intercom said.
I sighed. “What does a snowman eat for breakfast?”
